Soul Fire (12 page)

“You are,” I said, becoming nauseous.

“Just worry about yourselves, and stay away from me.”

“What about Ashla?” I asked.

“She needs to avoid Mako and the Tarantulas. She should never go back to Mount Olympic. Ever”

I felt something cold and strange inside me. It was a sensation I’d only felt once before. Fear. Raw and terrifying.

That evening, I stood shakily beside Ashla’s hospital bed. The fight still swirled around in my head and Delta’s words of warning burned in my ears. Fear balled in my stomach and I felt nauseous. I had to park in a poorly lit parking lot and run through the rain to the hospital entrance, imagining a dark figure jumping out behind every car. I was truly spooked.

The small hospital room was dim and Ashla was propped up on pillows, her forehead bandaged. She looked ghastly. “I’ll be out in a day or two,” she informed me.

I nodded. I couldn’t tell her about the fight or what Delta had said to us. She needed to know all of that, but not right now. I tried to act as if everything was okay. “Kind of thought your parents might be here,” I said, trying to sound normal.

“Mom was earlier. Dad will come by later. Anything new at school?” she asked listlessly.

I’ve always been truthful with my best friend, but tonight I had to avoid that. “It was weird. Really off. Quiet in your absence. Lots of whispering though.” I had to change the subject. “And by the way, I need to cancel tomorrow’s hydrotherapy session with Justin. I’ll explain that you’re ill,” I proposed.

“No, Celeste, you do it for me. It’s no biggie.”

“Oh, no. Not me. You can’t be serious, Ashla. I get within ten feet of Justin Ledger and my heart hits overdrive, my throat closes over, and my legs give out. He’d have to give me therapy.”

Ashla considered this problem. “Pretend he’s the older patient.”

“Come on, that won’t work. Justin’s so hot I’ll get third degree burns just touching him. I’ll phone and cancel.”

“No! We went to so much work to do this hydrotherapy program. If we cancel, they could replace us. Cover for me just this one time, Celeste, please. I’ll be able to do Saturday’s session. My headache is almost gone.”

So, that’s how I ended up standing on the pool deck waiting for none other than the great J. Ledger. He was late and all kinds of thoughts blazed through my mind. Most of all, I fantasized about him not showing up. As I glanced at the clock, the locker room door opened, and he rolled his wheelchair onto the pool deck. He looked at me, at the pool, and back at me.

“Where’s Janine?” he asked.

“She’s sick. I’m filling in.” And my heart hit two hundred beats a minute. My legs turned to water.

He nodded and knowing the drill, wheeled past me, slid onto the lift chair, and lowered himself into the pool. I jumped in, wondering how I would ever get through the hour. “I’m Celeste,” I told him, taking his hand to guide him to the bars. And that was it. The minute I touched him, my brain left my body, and I can barely remember a thing either of us said or did after that. At some point, I recall that he asked, “Hey, are you okay? Maybe you're getting what Janine’s got.”

I blurted something incoherent and we carried on. In the final minutes I started to panic as I remembered how Ashla had towel dried his back. We were supposed to do that for the patients, but I just could not. I would not survive.

Our time was up—at last—and Justin was looking at me expectantly. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again.

“Perfect,” I choked. He sat down in the lift chair and I met him up on the pool deck.

“Will Janine be back on Saturday?”

“She better be.”

“Will you see her between now and then?”

“Probably.” I was staring at the towels. Reaching for one, I offered it to him and then I took a second towel.

He turned his head and said, “Tell her I missed her and I hope she’s feeling better.”

It hit me like a rock. He liked Ashla. I was nothing more than a volunteer who had likely given him the weirdest experience he’d ever had in a pool. I gripped the towel, rubbed his back, and then tossed it in the laundry bin. “I’ll tell her,” I said, returning to normal.

No school. No swimming. No outside activities. I could add
no life
, but I needed to decide which of these was a bad thing, given the state of affairs lately. No outside activities was problematic though, as I had promised Celeste I would do today’s hydrotherapy session with Justin.

I stuffed my swimsuit, wig, contacts, and makeup into my backpack and slipped downstairs to the overly busy kitchen where Mom and my grandmother were baking up a storm for Sunday’s bake sale at the church.

“I’ll be at Celeste’s,” I called out as I swung by the kitchen. I dove into my sneakers and had planned to rocket out the front door before they could stop me.

“No activities,” Mom called back. “Doctor’s orders.”

I didn’t stop. “Don’t worry,” I replied. I had my hand on the front door handle when my grandmother stopped me.

“Wait a minute, Young Lady! Your mother’s talking to you. Get yourself into the kitchen.” I turned slightly. She was right behind me. She moved like an alley cat. Soundlessly.

I looked past her to my mom, who was standing at the end of the hallway. Mom said, “We need to talk, Ashla.”

“What’s the big deal? I’ve spent half my life at Celeste’s.”

Mom motioned to the staircase. “Let’s go up to your room.”

I was getting antsy. If this kept up, I’d be late. I maneuvered around my grandmother and headed into the kitchen. “This’ll do. What is it?” I asked Mom.

“How’s the headache?”

“Gone.”

My grandmother had followed us. “No it’s not. You’re the headache. A walking, talking, breathing, throbbing heada—”

Mom, who never talks back to her own mother, cut her off. “That’s enough, Mom! Ashla and I need to talk . . . alone.”

I cheered silently and gave my grandmother my evil eye. Her piercing eyes held mine, nasty messages flashing both ways.

“Insolent, head strong, and incorrigible. That’s what she is!” My grandmother pronounced and with that, she disappeared down the bedroom hallway.

Mom shook her head. “She’ll never change.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve considered moving her into a condo?” I suggested. “Or an old folk’s home?”

Mom gave me a long look. “Actually, I’ve thought about the condo, but it’s not going to happen unless things get a lot worse. I do plan on having a chat with her though.”

“Today?”

“Maybe.”

I knew my grandmother paid room and board, so that had to be a factor.

“Anyway,” Mom continued, “back to the issue. I know this is the day you and Celeste volunteer at Harborside. You can’t do that today, Ashla. One bump and your concussion could come roaring back. Surely, you want things to heal. You must be fed up with lying in a dark room and living with a roaring headache.”

“Sick of it, actually. So, I’m not going to do anything strenuous or risky.”

“What about the pool?”

“I’ll watch.” A lie. I hated this. How had I gotten myself into this pattern? Oh, yes, the ski trip to Whistler.

“And what about driving there and back?” Mom persisted.

“Celeste is a cautious driver and it’s Saturday. Traffic’s not so bad.”

“For heaven’s sake, Asha! You’re almost seventeen, so I don’t want to dictate your life to you, but I would feel a lot happier if you stayed home for a couple more days, like the doctor said.”

“You know me better than that, Mom. I can’t stay still without going crazy. You’re the same way.”

Her expression changed from concern to understanding. I jumped on the opportunity. “I’ll be back by three,” I said and headed for the front door, making it out before she could say anything more.

Celeste was waiting in the car with the motor running. We could still make it on time. As I climbed gently into the passenger seat, she said to me, “I figured your mom captured you.”

“You figured right.”

“And you won.”

“Usually do.”

“Well, to look at you, no one would think that. Hope you brought erase because your wig won’t cover your black eyes.”

“Yup.” I dug in my pack for the wig, and as she pulled away from the curb, I dropped the visor mirror, knotted my hair so I could position the wig on my head, and then pinned it carefully. I had too much hair for this. One day the wig will pop right off.

Next, I applied layers of erase and makeup, taking care to cover the bruising. Lastly, I put in the miserable brown contacts. My eyes were watering profusely as we pulled into the Harborside lot. It was a wonder the contacts didn’t float away. Climbing carefully out of the car, I said to Celeste: “You never said how your session went with Justin.”

She clicked the car door lock and we headed for the pool building. “Terrible. He probably thinks I’m an airhead, and he’d be right.”

I laughed as I pictured Celeste trying to give him therapy.

“It’s not funny! I have no idea what I did or said the entire time. I made a complete idiot of myself.”

“Well, I appreciate you trying,” I said trying to look serious.

Justin was waiting by the pool when I walked in. His wheelchair was next to the lift, but his eyes were on the door of the women’s locker room. I wondered how long he had been there.

“Hi, Janine,” he said. His smile stopped me and my heart ramped up, as usual. His dark hair was longer than most guys’ and combed straight back off his broad forehead. Dark brows framed those translucent eyes. He was freshly shaven, defining the angular bone structure of his face. He moved the chair slightly and the muscles rippled across his shoulders and down his arms. For a moment, I was stricken—paralyzed, unable to move or think. Oh, no, now I had what Celeste had. Gross motor paralysis . . . or some such thing.

I hesitated and re-thought my plan. I should bail. This was indeed a crazy idea. Why did I ever think it would work? Nevertheless, my legs carried me across the pool deck, his blue eyes moving with me. His smile grew bigger.

“Glad you’re feeling better.”

I cleared my throat, “Thanks.” I choked. “Ready for the plunge?”

“You bet.”

When we were both in the water, he launched right into the routine, working vigorously. The hour was almost up when it happened. He was turning toward the edge of the pool when he suddenly lost his footing. I grabbed him at the exact moment he reached for the support bar. His right arm struck my chin and sent me flying backward. Worried I would hit the ledge of the pool, I ducked underwater to stop the backward momentum.

Too late, I remembered the wig and grabbed it. Then, I remembered the contacts and squeezed my eyes shut to keep them from popping out, as Celeste had warned. Justin reached down and pulled me up. I surfaced both hands on the wig. “I’m supposed to be the lifeguard,” I sputtered.

“Are you all right?” he asked trying to see my face.

Was my makeup still on? Was my wig, now soaked and dripping, still straight? Were the contacts in place? Imagining the worst, I kept my head down. “Time’s up,” I said curtly. “I’ll help you out.”

“Hey.” He reached for my arm and turned me around. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to send you flying.”

Don’t do this, I thought, terrified that I’d lost my disguise. I didn’t want him looking at me. I wanted out of his sight. “I’m fine.” And I was. No headache!

“You don’t look fine.”

I ducked and twisted away from him. “Come on. Let’s call it a day.” On the deck, I handed him a towel and pulled another to dry his back. He leaned forward and sat motionless as I used circular motions across his back. When I was done, he turned the chair and looked up at me. “There’s a coffee shop in the center court. Let me buy you a coffee. Make up for my clumsiness.”

Great. Here I was, wet wig and all, and the sexiest guy in the universe asks me out for coffee.

“Say yes,” he persisted.

What did I look like? Did I still have my contacts?
I couldn’t go out like this. I had to come up with an excuse.

“Celeste and I came together—”

Celeste interrupted: “Go ahead, Janine. I’ve got one more patient.”

She didn’t, of course. “I don’t think—“

“I’ll join you when I’m done,” she said pointedly.

Justin smiled triumphantly. “Great, I’ll wait for you outside the locker room.”

I walked slightly behind the chair out of his sight, and when he disappeared into the locker room, I bolted into the women’s, not stopping until I could see my own image in the mirror. Miraculously, the wig had remained pinned more or less in place, but it was soaked, flattened, and looked like a slick black hat with a slight right hand tilt. I leaned closer to the mirror. Brown eyes looked back. I examined the makeup. A fresh coat would fix things. There was movement over my left shoulder. Celeste. She looked awed.

“Lucky you weren’t under very long,” she said assessing the damage. “I can’t believe you’ve still got the contacts. Losing those would have given you away for sure.”

“But I look awful. How can I go for coffee like this?”

“Give me the wig and go shower.”

Ten minutes later, she handed it back to me, blown dry. Problem was, the hair now stood on end. These cheap wigs have a life of their own. I added a little water and tamed it. A few minutes later, I was ready. I turned to Celeste. “What do you think?”

She examined me. “The bruises around your eyes are showing.” She applied more erase and nodded. “It’s a little heavy, but it’ll do.”

I grabbed my backpack and headed for the exit door. As I grasped the  handle, everything seized up. My lungs collapsed. I couldn’t breathe. “Can’t,” I gasped.

Celeste brushed by me, the door opened, and she pushed me gently through. “Go enjoy yourself for an hour,” she commanded. “It’s been too long. Go!”

I popped outside to find him right there, as he’d promised. I had the strange feeling that regardless of whether I had agreed to go for coffee or not, he would have been waiting for me.

“You’ve got to be the fastest woman in the locker room. I expected a longer wait.”

“I spend a lot of time at the pool, so I know the shortcuts.” I was relieved to find that my lungs had re-inflated and I could now breathe normally. We ordered lattes and took them to a table by the window. We sat face to face, his turquoise eyes taking me in one facial detail at a time. I tried not to pull back. “You wear a lot of makeup.”